MDS (Movie Death Syndrome)
by Zelly
Summary: This was an entry for the Golden Tripe Awards, a contest to see who could write the worst ficcies. ^^};; This won both the Trembling Lip Award (worst angst/death) and also the Overall Worst Fic Award. ^___^}


Movie Death Syndrome MDS   
(Movie Death Syndrome)   
by Zelly 

Warnings: yaoi (TrowaxQuatre), implied sex (SEX! I SAID SEX!! HAHAHAHA...SEX! c.c};;), lots of naughty language, extremely STUPID (but it's intentional, of course! ^_~}) 

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is (c) Bandai/Sunrise blah blah blah. the story concept is (c) MAD. 

* * * * * 

Once upon a time, in the not-too-distant future (I hope ^^};;), there lived an extremely sexy acrobat named Trowa Barton. He was like, really sexy, with beautiful emerald green eyes and rich brown hair that completely obscured one side of his face in a weird but sexy unibang that also kind of stuck outwards and looked like it was stiff and full of gel but it was actually really soft and beautiful. Oh, and he was sexy. Really, really, REALLY sexy. ROWR. 

This really yummy acrobat also happened to work in a circus. He would put on a clown half-mask, on the side of his face that wasn't concealed by the wonderful flowing curtain of dark hair. Then he would do lovely acrobat stuff that showed off every inch of his beautiful lean, muscular body, glistening with sweat like a swimmer, fresh from the pool. *slobberdrool* ...Although sometimes, he'd just put on a baggy green outfit and big funny shoes and do stupid stuff, like be strapped to a board while his sister threw knives at him. 

Despite the fact that Trowa was extremely babelicious, he was single and very lonely. Lots of girls were constantly flocking to him, but he just wasn't interested...in ANY of them! Catherine, his sister, constantly yelled at him and teased him for it, trying to encourage him to go out with some of them, to which he would reply coolly (in that deep, sexy voice of his), "I'm homosexual, Catherine." 

"So go to a gay bar!" she would retort hotly, and storm off. 

Gay bars suck, though. 

"I don't want to be picked up by strangers at a bar," Trowa murmured to a lion one day. "I just want someone to understand me." 

The lion snarled at him in response. 

"Fine." 

Trowa shook his head, and walked back into the emptying tent. 

Suddenly, a mesmerizing sight caught his eye. Making his way through the crowd of people exiting the tent was an extremely cute and cuddly-looking boy. 

He was the most beautiful thing Trowa ever saw. He was really small, maybe about 5'2" or 5'3", with short blonde hair. Ragged blonde bangs fell into a pair of large blue eyes. 

Trowa sighed. Love at first sight. 

As he continued to stare at the boy, he suddenly seemed to catch sight of what he was wearing: a PINK blouse! Trowa's prettified green eyes turned into huge red hearts. 

But how to get his attention? Better try the never-fail accidental bump trick, Trowa thought, his heart beating fast. 

So, Trowa took a deep breath, and made his move. He started walking. And when he was close enough to the boy...THUMP! He "accidentally" bumped into him. 

"Oh!" 

"I'm sorry." 

"It's all right." His voice was really cute, high-pitched enough that it sounded almost like a girl's voice, but not TOO girly. Like a girl with a deep voice. Plus, like Trowa, he didn't have that stupid lispy accent that stereotypical gays had! 

The boy smiled at him sweetly, and Trowa melted. "Hey, you're that acrobat, right?" 

Trowa composed himself. "Yes." 

The boy fiddled nervously with the collar of his blue vest. "You were, uh...really good tonight..." 

"Thank you," Trowa replied, feigning nonchalance. He held out his hand. "My name is Trowa. Trowa Barton. You are...?" 

"Quatre Raberba Winner," the boy replied, shaking Trowa's outstretched hand. "Pleased to meet you, Trowa...I've, um, been watching your performances for a long time. You're really good..." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah..." Quatre trailed off as Trowa stepped closer to him, his emerald eyes boring into Quatre's aquamarine pools. The blonde blushed cutely. 

"So, Quatre..." Trowa began, slowly rubbing his thumb across the back of the small, delicate hand still gripped in his. Quatre blushed even further. "...are you doing anything tonight?" 

"No," Quatre replied with a nervous smile. 

"Would you like to accompany me, then? Sitting in bars alone is both depressing and dangerous." 

"Sure, I'd love to." 

So off they went, to talk over drinks and get better acquanted. And, I might add, they hit it off. They hit it off so well, in fact, that later that night they headed back to Trowa's place for some, uh, acrobatics of their own. In bed. 

And as the days and weeks passed by, their love for each other deepened with each sunset. 

"Oh, Trowa..." Quatre chirped happily as they ran towards each other through a beautiful flower field, arms outstretched. "Isn't it great to be young and American...and IN LOVE?" 

"But Cat," Trowa remarked as his cuddly cupcake glomped him, knocking him to the ground, "you're Arabian, not American." 

"Who cares? Make love to me." 

Trowa shook his head. "Last time I ravished you, you said you were sore for days." 

"So? It's not my fault you're so sexy and well-endowed!" Quatre retorted, glaring down at his beau. 

"Oh, so it's MY fault, then?!" 

"Yes, it is, Allah be damned!" Quatre growled. "If you weren't so fucking sexy, I wouldn't be so horny all the time!" 

"And it's BECAUSE of the fact that you're so irresistably ADORABLE that I can't hold back and I fuck you so hard you complain about your cute little ass hurting!" 

"Don't put all the blame on ME! It's not MY fault you forget to grease up, Trowa!" 

"Well, you COULD remember to BUY lube! FUCK YOU!" 

"That's the PROBLEM!" Quatre cried, feeling his eyes fill with tears. "You WON'T! Even though the time and setting right now is perfect, with the Sun going down and the crickets chirping and the flowers--" He cut off suddenly, bright blue eyes sparkling as he squealed in delight. "DARLING! Our first fight!" 

Trowa's face broke out into a soft smile. He wrapped his arms around his little kitten and rolled over, pinning him underneath the acrobat's long, muscular body. "I love you, Quatre," he murmured, nuzzling the smaller boy's neck. His long bang tickled Quatre's skin, causing him to giggle and squirm beneath him. 

"So does that mean you'll ravish me on the grass now?" Quatre beamed up at him, eyes shining with tears of joy. 

"Of course I will, my little loveycakes." 

So they happily fornicated in the lovely flower field. 

* * * * * 

Two hours later, when the two boys were lying on the grass staring up at the twinkling stars together, Trowa popped the question. 

Actually, first he reached into the pocket of his skintight white jeans (which were lying in a heap with their other clothes), and pulled out a velvet box. 

Quatre looked over when he felt his lover moving beside him, and Trowa quickly hid it behind his back. The Arabian cutie frowned. "What are you doing, Trowa?" 

Trowa held out the box in front of him, and opened it to reveal a lovely ring. "Will you marry me, Quatre?" 

Quatre squealed with joy as Trowa slid the band onto his ring finger, and held it up to look at it. "I will! Oh, Trowa, I love you." 

"I love you too, Quatre." 

"Make love to me." 

So they did, even though they had just finished and Trowa forgot to use lubricant for the thousandth time. But it was so beautiful and romantic and happy that it didn't matter to either of them at that moment. 

* * * * * 

"My butt hurts," Quatre whined as they walked towards Trowa's house. 

"I told you, Cat," Trowa muttered, shaking his head. He crumpled up the wrapper from his hamburger and threw it on the ground. 

"Trowa!" Quatre exclaimed, shocked. "You can't do that! It's LITTERING!" 

"So?" 

"That's BAD for the environment, damn it! Pick it up!" 

"Okay, okay." Trowa bent down to pick up the wrapper. Since he was wearing those skintight white pants, it gave Quatre a lovely view of his nice ass and long legs. He sighed dreamily as Trowa threw the crumpled paper into the wastebasket. 

He linked arms with Trowa after the extremely sexy unibanged boy stood up. "Where are we going, anyway?" 

"To meet my family," Trowa replied, kissing his fiancee on the cheek. 

"Oh. Can we make love after that? Watching you get that trash off the ground..." 

Trowa sighed. "We'll see." He never dreamed that his cuddly little snuggywoogums would be such a nymphomaniac. Oh well, it did more good than harm. 

* * * * * 

"Trowa! Who is this you've brought with you?" Catherine beamed as Trowa walked up with Quatre. 

"Catherine, this is the boy I am going to marry," Trowa replied matter-of-factly. 

"Marry? ... MARRY?! Is he rich! He better be rich, god damn it!" 

"Uh...yes, I'm rich." Quatre blushed. 

Catherine leered down at him. "What's your name, young man?!" 

"Oh..." Quatre smiled. "My name is Quatre Raberba Nahestial Peetil Ahmed--" 

"Okay, I get the point!" 

"--Jahal Kehmeed Abdul Ramak Winner!" 

"That's a longass name," Catherine growled. 

"You should hear it BEFORE I got it shortened!" Quatre beamed. 

Trowa smiled. "This is my sister, Catherine." 

"Nice to meet you, Catherine!" Quatre shook the seething red-haired girl's hand, then turned to Trowa. "Where are your parents?" 

"I don't have any." 

"You don't?" 

"Nope. Catherine's the only family I have." Trowa sighed. 

"WOW! That was easy! Let's go make wedding invitations!" 

* * * * * 

So as the days passed, each filled with passionate love-making, time before the wedding grew shorter and shorter. And the happy couple became more and more anxious. 

However, one week before the wedding, Quatre became very ill. "Trowa," he murmured one day, "I feel weak." And he fainted into Trowa's arms. 

Well, Trowa rushed him immediately to the hospital. For five whole hours, he sat in the waiting room as doctors performed tests on Quatre, wringing his hands. What on Earth could have happened to his kitten? 

Finally, a doctor came out. "Mr. Barton?" 

"Y-yes?" Trowa stood up. "Did you...find out...what was--?" 

"Yes, we did." The doctor pulled off his glasses, wiping them, then replaced them on his stony face. "Come back with me." 

The doctor showed him to a table where Quatre was lying, asleep. Trowa sighed, brushing blonde locks away from his face and kissing his forehead. Quatre stirred slightly, but he didn't awaken. 

"Mr. Barton," the doctor began, "I'm afraid that Quatre has Movie Death Syndrome--or MDS." 

"Movie Death Syndrome? What does that mean?" 

"Well, Mr. Barton..." the doctor sighed. "Do you see how beautiful Quatre looks at this moment?" 

"Of course I do," Trowa snapped. "He always looks beautiful." 

"I know he does," the doctor replied, "but he looks even more beautiful now. Observe." The doctor waved his hand towards the table. Sure enough, Quatre's face was a little more pale than before, and his lips were pinker. Trowa sighed. 

"You're right." 

"Well, MDS is doing this to him. He will die, but unlike getting shot, or puking his guts out or something, he will simply die a beautiful slow death, like in the movies. Hence the name: Movie Death Syndrome." 

Trowa felt his eyes fill with tears. "D-die?" 

"Yes. I am very sorry." 

"Is there...any way to cure this...?" 

"No, I'm afraid not, Mr. Barton." 

Trowa couldn't believe what he was hearing. His sweet, beautiful, loveable, snuggly, cuddly kitten was going to die. And they weren't even going to be married now. Hopes, dreams, and futures all came crashing down. 

"How long...does...?" Trowa could barely choke out the words. 

"Two hours." 

"Two hours...?!" 

"Trowa..." 

There was a slight movement from the bed, and Trowa turned to see Quatre struggling to sit up. He fell back onto the pillow with a frustuated sigh. 

Trowa scrambled over to beside the bed, kneeling down to gaze into Quatre's eyes. "Quatre...my angel..." 

"I heard...everything." Quatre smiled, which made Trowa choke up even more. He looked so beautiful. "I'm...I'm not afraid of dying, Trowa." 

"But you made my life so perfect," Trowa sobbed. "Now you're leaving me." 

"I'm sorry...Trowa..." Quatre stared up at him, his blue eyes sparkling. "I'm sorry I ruined your future." 

"It's not your fault." Trowa sniffled. "It's not..." 

"Don't cry, Trowa. Even though my body is gone, my soul will always be with you, in both your heart and your memories. And I'll be watching over you, from heaven..." Quatre sighed. "Don't ever forget me, my darling." 

"I won't." Trowa clasped Quatre's hand in his. "I won't." 

"I love you, Trowa." 

"I love you too." 

Quatre sighed again, his face breaking out into a warm, loving smile. "I'll always love you...my Trowa..." He exhaled, closing his eyes...forever. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Barton." The doctor indicated the heart monitor, which was a straight line. "He's gone." 

"You said he had two hours to live!" 

"I'm afraid I miscalculated. Sorry about that." 

"Quatre..." Trowa leaned down, to brush his lips across Quatre's soft, pink ones. Even though his skin was cold, he was still beautiful. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Barton." The doctor covered Trowa's sweetie with a white cloth. "You should go now." 

"Yes...goodbye, doctor. Goodbye, my beautiful kitten." With that, Trowa left, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

* * * * * 

Trowa knelt before Quatre's grave to lay a single red rose upon it. Every day he came to this spot, to pay as much respect as he could to his darling angel-pie. 

Quatre...I miss you, he thought, wiping a tear from his eye. We would have had such a beautiful future together... 

As he walked back from the cemetary, Trowa pulled out his lunch. Although sometimes, I do feel as if you are truly watching over me after all, he thought, tossing a banana peel on the ground. 

And somewhere, from up in heaven, a soft, adorable voice screamed, "TROWA!! STOP LITTERING!" 

Trowa smiled. "That's my Quatre," he mused, quickly picking up the banana peel and depositing it into the nearest waste receptacle. 

THE END!   
(YAY!!!!! *pukes*) 


End file.
